


No Fate But What We Make

by kedriaa



Category: Dragon Age
Genre: Alternate Universe, Kink Meme, M/M, Temporary Character Death, Time Travel, Vigil's Keep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-05
Updated: 2011-06-05
Packaged: 2017-10-20 04:00:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/208515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kedriaa/pseuds/kedriaa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the dragon age kink meme on LJ</p><p> </p><p>  <i></i><b>Prompt excerpt:</b><br/>Okay, so I've seen both prompts and fills for stories where Anders loses Justice and his memory and goes back to his charming Awakening self. Anyway, in sort of the same vein but not quite, I'd like to see one where Hawke actually goes back in time somehow and meets the old Anders.<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	No Fate But What We Make

  
**I.**   


Hawke whistled sharply and drew the attention of all the shades in the immediate vicinity. As they surrounded him he steadied himself and braced for impact; effectively making himself a stonewall, and trusting his companions to whittle down the numbers that were attacking. Even as the shades fell to bolts or lightning or fireballs, more were emerging from the tear in the Veil.

The day before, Merrill had expressed her desire to lay the spirits of her clan to rest. Given the violent death they had suffered, she was worried that they would haunt the heights of Sundermount. She wanted to make sure that their souls would have been delivered to Falon'Din. To do that, she had to perform a ritual; and because of the numerous death she feared that she alone did not possess enough power to complete it. Bethany had kindly offered to help.

And so Hawke and Varric had volunteered to accompany them up the potentially haunted mount. They encountered no resistance, ethereal or otherwise, till they reached the summit. They certainly did not expect to find a tear in the Veil where the ancient elvhen graveyard stood. Since its discovery, they had been trying to stem the tide of the Fade creatures from pouring out of the tear.

They were beginning to get the upper hand when an arcane horror emerged. With a flick of its hand, Hawke was yanked off his feet and dragged across the dirt towards it. He swung his sword in a low arc and managed to deflect a blow from it. Hurriedly, he scrambled to his feet and launched an attack of his own.

"Merrill!" Hawke shouted, "Can you repair the tear?"

Merrill made no verbal reply; instead she slammed her staff into the ground before the tear and muttered an incantation. She stood immobile concentrating hard on her spell. Bethany, stood beside her, had immediately cast a barrier upon Merrill even as she continued to repel any threat approaching them.

As if sensing what Merrill was trying to do, the arcane horror turned from Hawke and rushed towards her. Hawke, despite his best efforts had failed to garner its attention, surged forward to stand between it and the girls.

Several things then happened all at once - as Hawke raised his shield, Bethany shouted out a spell and Merrill completed hers, the arcane horror spat out a spell of its own.

Then everything went to the Void in a hand basket. There was a blinding flash of light and a churning sensation in the pit of Hawke's stomach. All the air was squeezed out of his lungs as a freezing cold enveloped him. For a moment, he thought that Bethany had caught him in one of her spells but he had more faith in his sister. There was an almighty lurch and then Hawke landed on his face with a painful thud. Before he could gain his composure, someone landed on him. He groaned loudly as a second person fell on him.

Hawke struggled to free himself from the pile but froze when he saw a gloved fist flying towards him just before the world went black.

* * *

  
**II.**   


As his senses slowly returned, Hawke kept his breath steady and his eyes resolutely shut. He listened carefully, trying to assess his situation before sitting up. Maker knew all sorts of trouble he could get into by starting awake.

He could tell he was no longer outdoors, certainly no longer strewn upon cool damp dirt. He was laid upon a narrow cot under a rough wool blanket and, considering he assaulted without provocation, surprisingly unbound.

There was a scent of firewood and a subtle blend of reagents in the air that reminded him, painfully, of a certain Darktown clinic.

So he had been given healing, perhaps it was safe to assume he was not held by bandits or darkspawn or worse.

Hawke sneaked a peek and drew his eyes towards the sound of voices. He could see three people standing in the dim light just beyond the doorway, chatting. Judging by the weight of their armour, there was a dwarf warrior, a human rogue and a human mage.

As if sensing Hawke was awake, the mage turned and approached. Upon seeing the mage's face, Hawke's heart leapt. He blinked the sleep out of his eyes and stared in disbelief.

 _Anders... was it really him?_ Surely not; but it _was_ him, perhaps a little younger, and his hair was longer and pulled into a ponytail. He sported a single gold hoop in his right ear and a roguish smile.

"Ah, how do you feel?" Anders smiled amicably at him. "I'm Anders, by the way."

Hawke could only gape at the younger man while questioning his own sanity. He had to restrain himself from shaking Anders by the collar and screaming _'Don't you know who I am?'_

"Did the Commander hit you harder than I thought? He seems to have some latent aggression towards random shemlen. You know how the Dalish are." Anders joked then reached out to Hawke, who inexplicably flinched. Anders stayed his hand but made no indication he was offended. His expression was one of patience and good humour. "You can speak, right?"

"Where are my companions?" Hawke eventually found his voice.

"The cute brunette is in the next cot." He pointed to the partition on the right. "Merrill is with the Commander."

"You remember Merrill?" Hawke asked in surprise.

"Remember? No, never met her before. The Commander knows her though."

"I see," Hawke was thoroughly confused, then queried, "Who is this Commander?"

"Maker, he did hit you harder than I thought! Warden-Commander Mahariel, the Hero of Ferelden, vanquisher of big bad dragons. Where have you been?"

"Kirkwall," Hawke answered plainly.

"Ah, City of Chains. I hear the weather is nice there, shame about the Templars though," Anders quipped, quipped before asking, "Aren't you a little far from home?"

Hawke almost replied _'As are you,'_ but managed to ask, "Where exactly are we?" instead.

"Vigil's Keep in Amaranthine."

"Wait, do you know what day is it?"

"Er, double soup Tuesday?"

Hawke might have laughed if he wasn't feeling concussed. "No, no! The year."

Anders gave him a brief worried look, as if wondering if he was crazy, then said, "9:31 Dragon. Are you alright?"

Hawke's mind was reeling. Was it even possible? He knew little of the Fade, bar what his father had told him - it was dangerous and unpredictable and Bethany should never mess around with it.

Then, his thoughts of her had seemingly roused her, Bethany made a sound, driving all other concerns from Hawke's mind, and he instantly moved to his sister's side.

"That was fun," Bethany muttered groggily, "Can we do that again?"

Hawke smiled. "Only if you eat all your vegetables."

Bethany returned his smile and then sat up. When she looked past Hawke's shoulders, her expression turned to one of stunned disbelief and she uttered an oath; one which would've had resulted in their mother washing Bethany's mouth out with soap. Hawke was surprised she knew such an oath.

Anders laughed - it was a kind of carefree laugh that Hawke had never heard come from the mage he knew, and his heart wrenched.

"You really know how to make a man feel welcomed, my lady."

Bethany continued to gape wordlessly. Hawke quickly interjected before she could say anything else, "May we see Merrill?"

"I don't see why not," Anders replied. "I'll get someone to take you to her."

* * *

  
**III.**   


Merrill was alone when they found her. She greeted them enthusiastically; seemingly oblivious to the current predicament they were in. She babbled on about how great it was to see Mahariel, once believing that she would never see him again. Bethany, ever the diplomat, listened indulgently but Hawke's patience was wearing thin.

"Merrill!" He snapped little more harshly than he expected to. Both girls looked at him, Bethany with a slight look of disapproval, Merrill with one of surprise. "Do you not find it strange that we are now hundreds of leagues from where we were?"

"We are? Where are we?"

Hawke steadied his temper. Perhaps recognising the warning signs, Bethany spoke up, "We're in Ferelden." En route, Hawke had quickly shared with Bethany what he had learned.

"Really?" Merrill sounded surprised. "How long were we unconscious?"

"Not that long. We weren't brought here from Kirkwall while we were out if that's what you're thinking." Hawke shook his head, and then added grumpily, "We emerged from the Fade and landed in Ferelden where the Commander saw fit to knock out an unarmed man."

"He was always one to hit first ask question later," Merrill replied sagely. "I suppose it's handy if you fight darkspawn for a living."

Hawke scowled at her; even after all these years she continue to remain impervious to it. Bethany stifled a chuckle.

Merrill continued, "Why are we in Ferelden?"

"I was hoping you could answer that. What manner of ritual could move us thus far?"

Merrill frowned. "None that I know of." Suddenly she looked around as if she had misplaced something. "Where's Varric?"

"Our rescuers did not name him among my companions. He was quite a distance from us when the fireworks began. Perhaps he was spared."

"The spells!" Bethany suddenly exclaimed. Hawke and Merrill looked at her curiously. She continued, "In the Circle I learned any number of spell combinations could lead to unexpected repercussions. Because it was impossible to determine what the outcome would be, experimentation was forbidden. Any combinations recorded so far were all results of accidents."

"Brilliant," Hawke said, "I do so love being a pioneer. Will casting the same spells send us back?"

Bethany shrugged. "Maybe. Or it could just send us somewhere else. Besides, I am only guessing." She then gave Hawke a nervous glance and hesitantly said, "I suppose that would explain --"

"Anders!" Merrill interrupted with a startled cry.

Anders stopped in his tracks and sighed melodramatically. "Judging by the reactions I'm getting, I must've put on my anti-pretty girl charm by mistake."

"The shemlen have a charm for that? How weird."

"Pretty and a sense of humour! It's nice to meet a Dalish who doesn't want to kill me or send me to my death in Deep Roads." Anders winked at Merrill. "Anyway, I was sent to tell you dinner is ready. Better not dilly-dally; us Wardens have a special talent of inhaling food."

They followed Anders to the mess hall, all three of them preoccupied with their thoughts. Anders was more than happy to fill in the silence, outrageously flattering and charming both Bethany and Merrill.

On one hand, Hawke had to suppress the urge to shake some kind of recognition into Anders once again; on the other hand, he had to restrain himself from kissing the other man. However, the _youth_ before him was not the man he knew and loved, name and face, notwithstanding.

This Anders possessed a streak of impishness that Hawke had never seen in his Anders. This Anders flirted shamelessly, and it irritated Hawke. Most importantly this Anders did not seem to be faltering under the weight of a corrupted virtue. Perhaps this was the real Anders, and all Hawke had known was a desperate, misguided revolutionary seeking a means to an end.

Hawke slowed in his steps. He could not bear to continue listening to this... this doppelganger speaking without a care in the world. Not after what he had been through, not after all he had sacrificed.

As soon as he spied an exit, Hawke took it. He was so angry, at Anders, at the Maker, at fate, at himself, at everything; he really needed to hit something badly.

His angry stomping around the Keep's grounds finally led him to the training courtyard. Picking up a training sword Hawke began bashing the nearest dummy to vent his frustration. He knew he was acting like a child throwing a tantrum but he didn't care. At least, not until some fool interrupted him.

"I would speak with you, ser."

It was a warrior in full armour, helm and all. In the light of the setting sun, Hawke thought he saw the warrior glow. He studied the warrior briefly; there was something oddly familiar about the man's superior demeanour.

"So speak," Hawke snapped, then turned his attention back to his angry hacking. Bethany would surely chide him for bring rude but he was in no mood to care.

"You emerged from the Fade, body and soul," the warrior continued, unperturbed by Hawke's frosty reception. "I would know how you did that."

"As would I, serah, but do I look like a mage to you?"

"Perhaps not. I should have seen that you possessed neither the temperament nor the aptitude to be one."

Not knowing exactly how he knew, Hawke was now certain of who this arrogant warrior was. Hawke spun around, his eyes blazing; he bared his teeth and snarled, _"Justice!"_

* * *

  
**IV.**   


Nothing short of using a two-handed sword would satisfy Hawke's need to vent all the pent up aggression he felt for Justice. Unlike Fenris, Hawke knew he did not have the panache to wield such huge weapons, but he wasn't looking to impress. All he wanted to do was beat some sense into this so-called higher being.

Intellectually, Hawke knew it was a futile effort, but for the first time he felt he could express his hatred for this entity without hurting Anders.

Justice's took it in its stride to defend himself when Hawke came howling for its proverbial blood. It raised its shield fast enough to block Hawke's overhead swing. Hawke attacked again and again, and with each subsequent hit Justice was forced back.

Justice braced for one more hit then surged forward, bashing Hawke with its shield. Hawke staggered backwards but his sheer force of will and staunch fortitude kept him standing. Undeterred, Hawke tightened his grip on the sword hilt and launched a fresh string of attacks. To Justice's credit, it did not seem to feel the compulsion to retaliate, doing only what was necessary to defend itself.

Hawke didn't know how long they kept it up, certainly long enough to gather an audience and the attention of the master of the house.

"Cease and desist!" The Commander bellowed but Hawke was deaf to all requests. Even as he tried to swing his sword again, he was suddenly rendered immobile, as was Justice. It was a Paralyze spell.

"Thank you, Anders," the Commander said. Hawke could not help but feel betrayed.

"Show's over, folks," Anders called out to the crowd, "But we'll be here all week!"

"Anders," the Commander chided.

"What? We are, aren't we?" He grinned. "Unless you're planning on talking us on another save-the-world excursion?"

The Commander exhaled, exasperated. He then turned to Hawke and Justice. "You are both guests in this house and I will not have you disrupt its peace."

By this time the spell had worn off. Hawke let his practice sword fall to the ground and Justice sheathed his. Hawke gave the Commander a curt nod and stalked of again. Bethany hurried after him.

"Brother, what happened? Why were you fighting with that warrior?"

"That was Justice," Hawke answered shortly.

"Justice? But why--"

"Bethany, please!" Hawke exclaimed angrily. His shoulders slumped and he let out a weary sigh. In a gentler tone, he repeated, "Please, Bethany. Not now. I don't know what is going on anymore. I..."

Bethany instantly took him into her embrace. "Hush, Merrill and I will figure this out. You look exhausted, get some rest."

"I feel it. How Fenris has the stamina to swing his cumbersome sword around all day is beyond me."

Bethany laughed then she threaded her arm through his. "Come on, I think our rooms are this way. Once you are rested and have regained your manners and composure, you will apologise to both the Commander and Justice."

"But--"

"No buts!" Bethany interrupted, sounding exactly like their mother, Hawke had no choice but to grudgingly agree.

* * *

  
**V.**   


The room was spartan, clean and tidy. Hawke had not lived in luxury long enough to mind. He just needed a place to rest his weary head and the guest room was more than sufficient. Bethany had offered to send dinner up for him before heading to the Keep's library to see if she could glean any insights to their predicament. She doubted it very much but at least it was something to do. She had always loved books.

Hawke had almost fallen asleep waiting for dinner when a knock roused him. He opened the door and scowled, making a mental note to throttle Bethany when he next saw her.

Anders, who was holding a tray of food, gave him a crooked grin. "Boy, that amulet of mine is really working hard. Evidently, it affects handsome men too."

Hawke schooled his expression into one of indifference, and then stepped aside for Anders to enter. "Thank you," he said shortly, after all, he was under strict instructions to find his manners.

"I was wondering if you needed some healing," Anders said as he laid the tray down. "Going up against Justice was probably a foolhardy thing. The man feels no pain."

"I'm fine. Bethany can take care of me."

Anders raised an eyebrow at him. "So, she is a mage, then?"

Hawke cursed himself for letting his guard down.

"Don't worry, it's not like I'm going to turn in a fellow apostate."

"She's not an apostate," Hawke hurriedly replied. It was true, technically, she wasn't. Bethany, and all her fellow Kirkwall mages had not wilfully fled the Kirkwall Circle, even if it was in complete disarray. "She belongs to the Kirkwall Circle."

"I see," Anders nodded slowly. "I had the impression that the Kirkwall Templars were rather strict. I didn't know they allowed their charges to roam free."

"I ... " Hawke snapped his mouth shut, he had almost confronted Anders about the latter's desire for mage freedom, something he, Hawke, shouldn't know about. Instead, Hawke hurriedly changed the subject, "Is the Commander ready to have me thrown out of the Keep?"

"Oh, yes, definitely. But lucky for you, your friend, Merrill talked him out of it. The Commander is fairly new with this authority malarkey. Additionally, the nobles are having a collective apoplexy about having an elven arl." Anders laughed. "I guess he felt that he needed to show a firm hand."

Hawke merely nodded. He was positively mesmerised by Anders, the way he talked, the way he laughed, the way he smiled and above all how _young_ he actually looked. Seven years should not have aged a man as much as it did his Anders. Hawke squeezed his eyes shut and stilled his hands, for fear of reaching out to this stranger. With a voice laden with consternation he asked, "Was there anything else? If not, I'd like to be alone."

"Right, of course." Anders rose from his perch. "I didn't mean to intrude." He promptly left the room and shut the door behind him.

Hawke felt the urge to hit something rise again.

* * *

  
**VI.**   


Hawke slept in. If he could, he would stay in bed till Merrill and Bethany resolved the problem. He did not relish facing the Commander, Justice, and least of all Anders. The Maker was surely punishing him for something. He now wished he had taken up Sebastian's offer for confession. Maybe if he did the penance then he would've been given a lesser chastisement.

On top of that he ached. Being repeatedly battered by a shield was a lot more painful than he had expected. Normally, he did the battering. If any of his victims had actually survived a confrontation with him, he was more than happy to apologise for the pain he had inflicted on them. The prospect of apologising to Justice was even more unpleasant, even if he was the one who started it.

Sometimes he hated the way his sister had him wrapped around her little finger. That little brat. Having said that, all was forgiven when Bethany visited with breakfast and offered healing.

"Found anything?" Hawke asked.

Bethany shook her head while making his bed. "Nothing. Merrill is trying to find out if there is a Dalish clan nearby. Perhaps their Keeper can help. So, did you have a good chat with Anders last night?"

"No! What in the Maker's name made you think that would've been a good idea?"

"But you miss him."

"Of course I do, but he's gone and that ... philanderer is not him. I need this like I need a dagger in my chest. With any luck this will be all over soon."

Bethany argued, "Brother, we've done something no one has ever done before. Who knows if we can ever get home. Besides, I'm not suggesting anything more than having a conversation."

"Bethany, you're my sister and I love you dearly but please stay out of my love life."

"Fine." She tossed her head. "Go make your apologies, who knows if either of them will hold grudges. It's lucky Merrill and the Commander are kindred."

"Maker! You can nag!"

~*~

It was indeed lucky that Merrill and the Commander were kindred. He didn't seem to bear any resentment to Hawke's tantrum yesterday.

"From what Merrill has told me, I can see how frustrating this must be."

Hawke veiled his reaction. While he did not explicitly instruct the girls to keep it a secret, he would've thought that their incredible, almost unbelievable circumstances would've stayed their tongue. Of course, this was Merrill; she was possibly the most naive and trustworthy person Hawke had ever met. He should've expected her to have no secrets from the Commander, who, from her perspective, was the last of her clansman alive.

"Exactly what did she tell you?" Hawke asked.

The Commander smiled. "She said she had known you for six years and that you were good man. You and your friends looked out for her when she was new to the alienage. Funny thing to say. I've only left the clan eighteen months ago and I could've sworn she's never been to any alienages, much less befriended a shem."

"So what do you make of this then?"

"Magic and the Fade are not my purview. However, I have seen enough in the last eighteen months to believe that anything is possible." The Commander shrugged. "You seem rather intent on keeping this a secret; I feel no need to contradict you, unless your situation comes to endanger anyone under my care."

"Perfectly understandable."

"Velanna was the First to her clan. Merrill is currently speaking with her. Justice has some unique insights to the Fade; perhaps he could assist you, too. But allow me to lock up the training weapons before you seek him out," the Commander finished with a smirk.

"Thank you." Hawke returned his smile.

"One more thing, Hawke," the Commander extended his hand, "I'm sorry about hitting you. When things fall out of a Fade portal, you hit it."

Hawke had to laugh at that. It was a relief to be in the good graces of the lord of the manor.

* * *

  
**VII.**   


Hawke was told Justice was in the courtyard. Upon entering, he saw that the spirit was conversing with an archer. Neither one of them had spotted Hawke. As he neared, something the archer said made Hawke stop and eavesdrop. His curiosity overrode his good manners.

"What if you found a living body to possess?" The archer asked.

"Even if I knew how, I would not possess the living. Such is an act for demons," Justice replied with a hint of indignation in its voice. Hawke was rather surprised to hear that.

"What if the person were willing?" The archer pressed on.

"Why would a mortal ever allow such a thing?" _Why, indeed?_

The archer shrugged. "For life. For love. Perhaps together, you can do what they cannot do alone. If you gave instead of taking, I would consider you no demon."

Justice paused for a moment. "It is ... something to consider. Thank you, Nathaniel."

Suddenly, Hawke felt like he needed to pound on this Nathaniel. Evidently, it was his stupid idea for the spirit to take a living host. Holding his temper back, Hawke resumed his approach. Bethany would probably tan his hide if he started another fight, and he was certain that no amount of sweet talking from Merrill would stop the Commander from having his guts for garters.

"Justice," Hawke said with as little venom as possible. The spirit and Nathaniel turned to look at him. Nathaniel tactfully excused himself. Hawke continued, "I came to offer my apologies."

"That is not necessary. I took no offence," Justice said magnanimously. Hawke wanted it to be a jerk so that he could continue hating it. However, after hearing its conversation with Nathaniel and considering that it had yet to possess Anders, Hawke was finding it hard to persecute it for a wrong it had not yet to commit. "I am curious, though, as to why you saw it necessary for us to spar so vigorously."

"Spar?" Hawke asked incredulously, but decided to let it slide. "I thought that you would be a more challenging opponent than a bale of straw."

"Indeed," Justice agreed. "Have your cohorts found a way back into the Fade?"

"You wish to return to the Fade?"

"Perhaps. That is where I belong. However, I have come to appreciate many fine things in this mortal realm."

"And you would do anything to achieve that desire?"

"I have no desires."

"Is that so? Tell me, do you believe that vengeance by any means necessary is just?"

Justice paused to consider Hawke's words, but before it could answer a dwarf interrupted them.

"Gear up, Justice," the dwarf called, "Commander wants to check out that chasm in Knotwood Hills."

Justice excused itself. Hawke looked to the gates of the Keep and saw the Commander in full armour. Beside him, Anders was also geared up for battle. Subconsciously, Hawke prayed for his safe return.

* * *

  
**VIII.**   


Bethany had reassured him that there was nothing else to do except wait. Given the sorry state of the Keep's library, Mahariel had suggested writing to First Enchanter Irving of the Ferelden Circle. Bethany had spent an entire day carefully wording her letter, making it sound like she was researching a hypothetical scenario. Best not to give local Templars any reason to think an insane apostate was on the loose. Now, all they had to do was await an answer.

Three days had passed and no messenger came for Bethany. Hawke was ready to climb the walls.

The only consolation he had was that neither Anders nor Justice were around. They, the Commander and Oghren, Hawke had since learned the dwarf's name, were still away investigating Knotwood Hill. That, at least, gave him the peace to recover that equanimity that he had misplaced since tumbling out of the Fade portal.

He had taken to spending his time upon the roof, away from the hubbub of the Keep's activities. Moreover, it awarded him a bird's eye view of said activities. The master dwarf mason was hard at work fortifying the walls, the soldiers were busy training and the servants were bustling around with the day's chores.

And, of course, it also gave him the opportunity to spy on his sister, not that he would ever admit it.

Bethany seemed to have taken a shine to this Nathaniel fellow. Hawke was still slightly miffed at him for putting the idea of taking living hosts into Justice's head. Other than that, he did not know enough to judge Nathaniel at all.

Nathaniel, Hawke noticed, spent most of the days outside in the shooting range, either in practice or training others. That meant Bethany would be outside too, watching him and chatting with him. At least, Hawke thought in resignation, they were never alone.

The door behind him opened and Velanna stepped onto the roof. She stopped when she saw Hawke.

"My apologies. I did not know the roof was occupied," she said, turning to leave.

"That's okay. I was about to leave. It's all yours." Hawke straightened and headed to the stairs.

"Merrill speaks very highly of you," she suddenly spoke up.

"Merrill is too kind." Hawke smiled amicably at her. "I want to thank you for your help."

"I have done nothing."

"The day we can return to our rightful place could not come sooner," Hawke complained.

"Surely you do not mean to squander the opportunity?" Velanna practically demanded.

"What are you talking about?"

"By fate or by chance, you have been given the opportunity to change your destiny. Nay, to change even the destiny of Kirkwall, should you so desire."

"You jest! Who am I to decide the fate of thousands lives?"

Velanna looked at him as if he were a child. "The strong have always paved to way for the weak. You are strong, Champion of Kirkwall, you owe it to the people who have put their faith in you to lead them to a better life."

"Maker's breath! Did Merrill also tell you everything?"

Velanna explained, "Keepers are loremasters. It is our duty to record and share the important and pivotal events of our generation. The rise of the Champion of Kirkwall is one such event."

Hawke snorted. "I never asked to be Champion. Nor did I want to be responsible for the fate of Kirkwall. All I wanted to do was provide for my family."

"Then change it, for better or for worse." Velanna shrugged indifferently. "Terrible things have happened to my clan. Given what I know now, I would welcome the opportunity to alter some events of my past.

"Some people believe that our destiny is set from the day we were born. Others say that there is no fate but what we make."

Thunder rolled ominously, as if punctuating Velanna's words.

She continued, "Consider my words carefully, Champion. You may never again have the chance to regain what you have lost."

* * *

  
**IX.**   


It rained solidly for days, forcing everyone into the Keep. Hawke spent the time in solitude pondering Velanna's words.

She was right; too often he had wished for the power to change things, too often he had uttered those futile words – _If only..._

Now he had that power, and if Bethany was right about not being able to return, he knew he could not sit idly by and let Kirkwall fall to the madness of Templars and mages.

The more he thought about it, the more he was determined to set things right. It had to be done, and he had to do it alone. Bethany would not approve and Merrill, well, Merrill would probably be better off not knowing.

Hawke would be the first to admit that he often made it up as he went along. The combination luck and his fearsome disposition had gotten him out of most, if not all, sticky situations. There was too much at stake now to be carrying his brain in the same scabbard as his sword.

He needed to think this through carefully. First of all, he needed to ask how much Velanna knew of eluvians.

~*~

The rain finally let up after four days and a messenger from the Circle eventually made it to Vigil's Keep. Bethany had received a veritable tome from the Circle's best researcher, someone called Dagna. Obviously, Dagna had much to say about the matter, Hawke hoped it was all pertinent to them.

"Are you done moping?" Bethany asked glibly when he turned up in the mess hall for breakfast that same morning. Unsurprisingly, Nathaniel was with her.

"Never, I only came because your incessant chattering was breaking my concentration," Hawke retorted. Bethany pinched him in the arm, making him wince.

The door to the mess hall swung open with a bang and two very muddy dwarves strode in.

"Ale!" Oghren bellowed to a serving girl. "Bring us the whole damned cask and two tankards."

Oghren and the other dwarf took seats at Hawke's table.

"Introductions might be nice, Oghren," Nathaniel said.

"Eh? Oh. Sigrun, others. Others, Sigrun," he muttered into his tankard.

Sigrun smiled and greeted them when Nathaniel made the proper introductions. He then asked, "Where are the others?"

Oghren began to chuckle, it was mocking and plain evil. "Dragging Sparkle-Fingers' sorry ass to the infirmary."

"Anders is hurt? What happened?"

Hawke's breath caught in his chest when Nathaniel clarified who Sparkle-Fingers was. He felt Bethany's hand on his shoulder before she left silently. He knew she was headed to the infirmary to see if she could help with the healing. Hawke wanted to follow her but he did not want to encourage any speculation.

Oghren chuckled again.

"Oghren, it's not funny," Sigrun chided him, although she did have a smile on her face.

"Yes, it is!" Oghren started to guffaw.

Hawke breathed a sigh of relief. If they could be laughing about it, then Anders' injuries couldn't be serious.

"Are you going to tell us or just laugh, Oghren?" Nathaniel practically demanded.

Oghren took a large swig before starting. "You know that large tree at the fork just north of here?"

Nathaniel nodded.

"Well, it finally stopped pissing it down when we got near there. Sparkle-Fingers heard this wet bag of fur mewling, it was stuck up in the tree and he decided to be a blighted hero.

"So he climbs the tree to get the mangy thing. For a cat lover, he ain't much of a tree climber." Oghren chuckled.

"He fell out of the tree?" Nathaniel asked incredulously, failing to hide a broad grin on his face.

"Splat!" Oghren roared with laughter, smacking the table top.

"The branches were wet," Sigrun continued. "He must have slipped."

"More likely he sodding tripped on his man-skirt." Oghren chortled.

Sigrun ignored him and continued, "He knocked himself out and I think broke something. We were out of health potions, so the Commander and Justice carried him back to be fixed. Good thing it wasn't far."

"Thing is," Oghren snorted, "The cat wasn't stuck at all. It jumped down all on its own after the splat."

Hawke smiled indulgently. It was heartening to find some things did not change, possession or not. As Anders' fellow Wardens continued to laugh and take the piss out of him, Hawke quietly excused himself.

* * *

  
**X.**   


Anders' door was open. Hawke knocked anyway.

"I said bugger off!" Anders growled, hurling a book towards the door. Hawke dodged and the book smacked into the wall behind him with a thud.

Anders looked sheepishly at Hawke when he had realised it was Hawke at his door. "Er, sorry about that. I thought you were someone else."

"What? No fireballs?"

Anders chuckled. "Nope. House rules, unless you're darkspawn of course. If you're looking for Bethany I think she's gone back to her room."

"I wasn't. I came to see how you were doing." Hawke did not understand why it was proving so difficult to talk to Anders. When they were together in Kirkwall, the words came to him easily, and without reservations. Granted, a number of those conversations involved them yelling at each other about mage freedom and how far Anders was willing to go; but at least they never had to pick and choose their words with each other.

"I'm fine. Your sister is a talented healer." Anders then gave Hawke a suspicious look as he sat down on the edge of his bed. "Why? I got the impression that you didn't care for my company."

Hawke looked a trifle guilty. "I apologise. It has been a difficult time. It wasn't fair of me to take it out on you."

"That's quite alright, I don't mind a little abuse, as long as it's coming from a handsome man like you," Anders teased with a crooked smile.

At that Hawke's resolve crumbled, he launched himself onto the other man and kissed him like the world was about it end. Anders let out a startled yelp but was quick in reciprocating. An eternity passed before Hawke pulled away, breathless.

"Wow," Anders said, looking a little red and flustered, "Not to seem unappreciative, because that was just wow, but am I missing something?"

Looking wistfully at Anders, Hawke replied, "No, but I am."

"What?"

"Never mind, I should go." Hawke rose to his feet.

Anders reached out and grasped Hawke's wrist. "Oh, no, you don't! You don't get to run off after getting me all hot and bothered." He pulled Hawke down for another searing kiss. "Finish what you started, you bastard."

Hawke knew this was a bad idea. He knew that this could end up being one huge mess. Yet despite all the alarm bells tolling and his conscience warning him, he paid them no heed. The baser needs of his body had won this round.

Hawke deepened the kiss, desperate for the intimacy, but the kiss wasn't enough. He wanted more, he wanted everything. He moved to leave a trail of wet bite marks upon Anders' neck, relishing the small sounds that Anders was making. There was a mixed scent of sweat, elfroot and other healing reagents that Hawke could not name. He found it strangely intoxicating. It was something that Hawke had always associated Anders with.

As Hawke dipped his tongue into the crook of Anders' neck, his hands were frantically unbuttoning the tunic that Anders wore. Pushing the tunic open, Hawke took the time to admire the body laid prone beneath him. Save for fewer scars that Anders had picked up over the years, this was the body that he, Hawke, had known intimately.

Anders pulled Hawke towards him for another electrifying kiss while his hands reached down to trace the curve of Hawke's buttocks. Hawke moaned into their kiss and pressed further into Anders. There was no more hiding just how aroused he was, and feeling Anders' matching erection, he felt like he was beginning to lose all restraint.

With a wicked smile, Anders arched up into him, and again. The friction between them was deliciously hot. Hawke could feel the pleasant warmth radiating from his groin. Anders continued to rock against him, making him groan. Their lips met once more; their tongues searching, exploring, battling for dominion. Hawke could taste a sweet desire laced with an edge of bitterness in that kiss, and he had to wonder if it was only in his imagination or the aftertaste of a restorative potion.

Before long, Hawke found the presence of their clothing far too restrictive and it propelled him tear them off. Anders laughed, it was rich and soulful. Frustratingly, he simply laid back to watch in amusement as Hawke struggled with a particularly stubborn trouser leg. Hawke growled and, as punishment, bit Anders on the hip, hard, just shy of drawing blood. Anders hissed, but from pain or pleasure, Hawke could not tell. Perhaps it was a bit of both.

There, Hawke lingered; his tongue lazily explored sensitive thighs while his fingers, now slick with a sensuous oil that Anders had provided, searched for something more erogenous. With every touch and every lick, Anders would make a sound, each more arousing than the last.

No longer able to endure the endless teasing, Anders threaded his fingers into Hawke's hair and guided the latter to his aching erection. Hawke resisted.

"Bastard, don't make me beg," Anders pleaded hoarsely, his voice thick with lust.

Hawke thought briefly about further teasing Anders but his own erection was screaming to be released, thus, he gladly obliged.

Hawke began with feather-like kisses upon the rigid shaft of Anders' cock, working his way up from hilt to head. Anders' breath was slow and measured, his hands clenched and unclenched in restless anticipation of what was surely to come. He had propped himself up on his elbows watching Hawke, eyes laden with wanton desire.

When Hawke had kissed his way to the head, he began to lavish exquisite attention on it using slow deliberate swirls and tantalising nibbles. Anders' breath hitched and he licked his lips. And then finally, _finally,_ Hawke closed lips tightly around Anders' cock and engulfed the latter in a liquid heat. Anders exhaled sharply, his hips rising subconsciously to sheath himself further in Hawke's willing mouth.

Hawke's strong, calloused fingers, generously anointed, continued to stroke, massage, tease then slowly, agonisingly slow, pushed into Anders. Anders let out a lusty moan, bucking shamelessly. Hawke chuckled, then quickened his pace. He knew that Anders' incoherent orison and ragged breath were indications that the latter was close. With an explosive grunt Anders came and the air itself crackled with electricity.

Anders took a moment to catch his breath and utter a few more oaths before pulling Hawke into a rough, even painful, kiss. He whispered, "Your turn," his voice fraught with a promise of exhilarating completion. Hawke shuddered with anticipation.

Anders' hands, now slippery with oil, stroked Hawke's cock, coating it liberally. Hawke bit down on his lip to hold back the tide that threatened to overwhelm him. He was certain that even with his great fortitude; he could not endure this sweet torture for long. Slapping Anders' hand away, Hawke grasped the other man's hips and manoeuvred him to his hands and knees.

His swollen cock fit to burst, he slid into Anders in one fluid movement, and he felt like he had been set aflame. Hawke's frantic thrusts had little semblance of a rhythm. He simply could not wait for a slow build up. There was an urgent, desperate thirst in him that begged to be slaked. Hawke soared to fantastic heights; his breathtaking climax swept him away in a whirlwind of heady gratification.

When the rush had died down, he slumped forward bonelessly. Anders placed another kiss upon his lips, and they laid there, unmoving, savouring the gratifying post-coital bliss, as sleep slowly washed over them.

~*~

The sun had begun to set when Hawke awoke. Anders remained asleep, thus Hawke swiftly but silently dressed and left Anders' room.

* * *

  
**XI.**   


"The answer is no," Justice said as it accosted Hawke during dinner.

"I beg your pardon?"

"You asked, when we last spoke, if vengeance by any means necessary was just. The answer is no. Innocence and morality cannot be sacrificed to attain retribution. That would not be justice."

Hawke nodded his approval. "How would you, then, separate vengeance from justice? Many people have committed atrocities in your name. When is an act of punishment justice and not selfish retaliation?"

Justice looked curiously at Hawke. "You ask many strange questions of me. What exactly is it you seek?"

Hawke wondered that himself. What answers was he actually looking for from the spirit? He wasn’t sure. Maybe he simply wanted to understand how Anders and Justice, together, thought that blowing up the Chantry would be good idea.

"A simple understanding of the motivation of spirits such as yourself," he replied eventually.

"Why?"

"I was intimately acquainted with one," Hawke confessed. "At least with the living host of a spirit."

"Truly?" The spirit actually sounded excited.

"It did not end well, Justice," Hawke said darkly. "To take a living host you'll have to contend with the host's preconceptions and thoughts. You cannot anticipate the heights and depths of human emotions; or predict how they may influence and change you."

"You believe I can be swayed that easily?" Justice asked indignantly. "I am a spirit of justice. I have no other purpose and therefore immutable."

Hawke laughed mockingly. "You arrogant bastard! You think you are incorruptible? Perhaps in the Fade you were, but not here.

"Trust me when I say even spirits can succumb to the frailties of the human psyche or to the temptations of selfish desires. The other spirit was arrogant like you, but anger changed it, and its host, irrevocably."

"It was weak then," Justice replied loftily, then promptly rose and left the table. Evidently, it took offence to Hawke's implication.

Hawke snorted derisively, but agreed, "Yes, it was weak."

"Another lover's tiff?" the Commander asked as he occupied Justice's vacated seat.

Hawke pinned the Commander with an annoyed frown.

"I guess I should be glad you weren't throwing punches or food." The Commander, who had with him a veritable platter of food, smirked.

Hawke stared. Here was this slip of an elf with a plate of food equal to his weight; Hawke imagined the Commander had hollow legs. It was surprising enough to watch Anders eat the first night he moved into the mansion.

Hawke mentally shook his head; he didn't want to be thinking about Anders in his home. Thus, he brought his attention back to the dinner table.

"Did I hear you speak of living hosts to spirits?" the Commander asked.

"You did," Hawke replied.

"Oh, good. It's about time he considered that. If nothing else, he'll smell nicer."

"Good?" Hawke exclaimed. "How can a spirit possessing someone be good?"

The Commander quirked an eyebrow. "If the spirit and the host have common ground then they can have a symbiotic relationship. Wynne certainly benefited from her relationship with her spirit."

Hawke was taken aback by the revelation. "You know of living host?"

"Yes, she was my companion. One of my closest friends," the Commander explained. "Without her I would have probably perished a thousand times over."

"And she is ... fine?" Hawke asked.

"You mean was she an abomination?"

"No, I don't mean that. I mean if she was in any sort of conflict with the spirit. Did she have to fight it for control?"

"Not that I know of. Wynne spoke of it as a friend."

"Did you ever see a manifestation of the spirit in your friend?"

The Commander paused in his eating and looked curiously at Hawke. "I'm not sure what you mean by manifestation. I guess the answer would be no. Why are you asking?"

"I..." Hawke hesitated. "I, too, knew a host to a spirit, but his spirit was far from benevolent or cooperative."

"As I said before, magic is not my purview, but I can tell you that Wynne did not suffer from her possession. Perhaps your friend and his spirit were simply incompatible."

"Perhaps." Hawke nodded thoughtfully. The Commander didn't seem to know Hawke was talking about Anders and Hawke was a little surprised that Merrill had omitted the tiny detail about Justice's possession of Anders.

They sat in companionable silence, as Hawke mulled over the conversations. Since meeting Justice in person, he had begun revising his opinion of the spirit. It was clear that Anders had changed it as much as it has changed the mage.

Hawke excused himself and went in search of the spirit. He found Justice upon the ramparts.

"I want to apologise if I offended you," Hawke said.

"Yes." Justice nodded slowly. "Perhaps I was offended. Apology accepted. I seem to feel ... feel more in this mortal realm. You may be correct."

"Oh? About what exactly?"

"There is a certain darkness I sense; a taint that threatens to cloud my judgement. Even though Kristoff no longer feels or think, I cannot help but wonder if his body holds a sway over me."

Hawke looked at the spirit shrewdly. "That was a curious choice of words. Tell me, was Kristoff a Grey Warden?"

"He was."

"I see." Hawke briefly pondered over the revelations he had uncovered that evening, and finally came to a decision. He exhaled and took a seat upon the battlements then gestured for Justice to join him.

He looked sombrely at Justice and said, "It may be a little unfair to lay this burden on you but for the sake of hundreds of lives, I feel I must. Like you, I, too, champion justice. To that end, I would ask a boon of you."

"If it serves justice, ask." Justice inclined its head.

"Thank you," Hawke said sincerely. "But first let me tell you a tale of Kirkwall."

* * *

  
**XII.**   


When Hawke returned to his room later that evening he was gobsmacked to find Anders in his bed.

_Naked._

Hawke slammed the door shut so quick he may as well have seen darkspawn in the room. He took several deep breaths before slowly opening the door again.

"Brother!" Bethany poked her head out of her room, which lay across the hallway from his.

Hawke slammed the door again.

Bethany narrowed her eyes at him. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing!"

"Then stop slamming the door!" She scolded then retreated to her room. She and Merrill had been holed up in there pouring over the scrolls that Dagna had sent. Hawke knew she hated being disturbed while she was studying.

"Sorry," he called after her, then backed into his room. Anders immediately pounced, pinned him against the door and mauled him.

"What are you doing?" Hawke rasped after a few moment of being ravaged.

"Didn't you know Grey Wardens are practically insatiable?" Anders replied into Hawke's neck; he was just as breathless. "You sneaked away rather stealthily. I was hoping for seconds at least, if not thirds and fourths."

"I can't," Hawke protested.

"We'll take is slow," Anders purred, dragging his tongue across Hawke's collarbone, making the latter shiver.

"No!" Hawke grasped Anders' shoulders and pushed him away somewhat more roughly than he intended to. "That's not what I meant. I just don't think it's a good idea."

Anders looked at him with a slight frown. "Right, I see. Well, if this isn't embarrassing, I don't know what is." He forced out a laugh and began picking up his clothes. "Of course, there was this one time in the Circle –"

"I won't be staying," Hawke blurted, feeling the need to explain himself, but not knowing how. "I can't stay at the Keep ... I don't belong here."

"I'm not proposing, you know? It's just sex."

"I..." Hawke faltered, but eventually said, "You remind me of someone. A former lover. Things ended badly between us."

"Oh, that would explain the latent hostility. I was beginning to think I had wronged you in another life," Anders joked.

Hawke gritted his teeth. He didn't know to laugh or cry at that innocent, yet painfully accurate statement. Exhaling wearily instead, he turned away from Anders. "I would only be using you," he said quietly.

"If that's all that's bothering you, I'd say we were using each other." Anders sounded almost relieved.

Anders moved to kiss Hawke again, slowly, tenderly. "Please, don't reject me again. My fragile ego couldn't possibly take another blow." He feigned a tragic expression.

Hawke laughed; and in that moment, Hawke no longer cared that this was not his Anders because Anders was just Anders. Hawke finally realised that he had always seen past the spirit-induced obsessiveness that put Anders on a self-destructive crusade to the man that he truly was. Apostate, philanderer, revolutionary, even _'abomination'_ – Hawke loved them all.

Their carnal hunger sated earlier, they took the time to truly enjoy each other. Hawke was reminded of the time when they first got together; when the alleviation of the mages' hardship was more of a resolution than a blind obsession to Anders; a time when Justice, or perhaps Vengeance, was more tolerant of their relationship.

Hawke placed lingering touches upon Anders' waiting body with the tenderness of a dewdrop upon leaf. Even as his fingers traced lines that only he could see, his lips would follow, peppering light kisses along those invisible lines. Anders responded to Hawke's ministrations with equal gentleness.

They shared the night like long lost lovers renewing their passion and devotion; and Hawke relished every moment of it, memorising every detail as if he would never be with Anders again.

Later, when Anders had fallen into a restful sleep, Hawke lay awake watching him. As he studied his lover's face in the dim light of the lantern, he was lost in a maelstrom of emotions.

Since things had literally exploded in Kirkwall, he had been avoiding thinking about anything, pouring himself into non-stop action.

Once the dust had settled and the Templars had decided not to hang them all, Hawke was practically running home to pack up and leave. There were a few cursory overtures from the social elite for him to assume the long-vacant throne, but Hawke had no interest whatsoever in ruling a city-state that had quite literally taken everything from him. He couldn't be rid of the wretched place fast enough.

He regretted not leaving sooner. In fact, he had begun to regret going there in the first place. He also felt guilty for not being able to save Carver and his mother, or help Anders free Karl. He knew he was somehow responsible for leading Keeper Marethari, the Viscount, the Grand Cleric and even the First Enchanter to their deaths. He was angry at himself for not being more selfish – Varric once said he had a hero complex – by telling Dumar, Meredith and Orsino to solve their own flaming problems. Most of all, he was heartbroken by what Anders had done and what his lover's actions had forced him to do.

Hawke had gathered all these raging emotions, bound them up and put them away in a tightly sealed box. He simply wasn't prepared to deal with them yet. Additionally, the well-being of his sister and companions were foremost in his thoughts. He could have a mental breakdown after he had delivered them to safety.

Once again in the arms of the man he loved, and lost, those emotions had burst out of their containment. They were rushing at him, threatening to drown him. Not only was he forced to relive the terrible moment where he had reft away the life of someone he had promised to loved, someone he thought he would spend the rest of his life with, he also had to admit to himself that he should not be with this incarnation of his dead lover either.

Gingerly, he extracted himself from Anders' arms and sat up. Pulling his knees up to his chest, he rested his forehead on them, just as he bit back a choked sob.

No, now is not the time either, he chided himself. Bethany and Merrill, and perhaps all of Kirkwall, still depended on him. He scrubbed his eyes roughly, angry at the unbidden tears. He could not remember the last time he had cried. Not even when his father died and the burden of keeping the family safe fell upon him. He did not, could not allow his grief to endanger them. When Carver was killed, the threat of darkspawn taking his mother and sister kept him going. Even when his mother was murdered, he knew too many people still depended on him for him to fall apart. Finally, with Kirkwall burning all around him, he still did not dare to shed a tear for the loss of his love, because he needed to restore order first and foremost. He could grief for all of them when his duties were done.

Then suddenly warm comforting arms embraced him. Anders said nothing, asked nothing, he simply held Hawke tightly, and Hawke was grateful for that. In the dark of the night, Hawke could pretend that the man holding him did love him, and it was enough for now.

* * *

  
**XIII.**   


"Maker's hairy balls!" Bethany exclaimed. She had a bad habit of barging into her brother's room without knocking - a habit carried over from their childhood when Hawke often shared one with Carver.

"Nope, pretty sure they're mine," Anders replied without missing a beat.

Bethany laughed in spite of herself. Hawke groaned. He pointed at his sister, "You, stop cursing and get out." Then he elbowed Anders, "You, no bawdy jokes around my sister."

Bethany attempted to keep a straight face when she said, "It's a little late for that."

"Tattle-tale!" Anders chided.

Hawke growled, "Bethany, out!"

"I need to talk to you. This is important!" She protested.

"As is my sister _not_ seeing me naked."

Just then Merrill poked her head into the room. "Good morning, Hawke, Anders. What are we going to do about it?" she asked; either oblivious or not bothered about the men's state of undress.

"What are we going to do about what?" Anders asked curiously.

"Maker's breath!" Hawke swore. "Can a man have a bit of privacy in his own room?"

Bethany picked up a random piece of clothing and threw it at Hawke's face then ushered Merrill out.

~*~

"Like a dagger in your chest, huh?" Bethany teased the moment Hawke approached her and Merrill the mess hall.

"It's just sex, Bethany, you should try it sometimes."

"You're encouraging Bethany to sleep with Anders?" Merrill asked rather innocently. "You do really share everything with your sister."

Hawke laughed. Bethany flushed, whether in anger at his retort or embarrassment at Merrill's suggestion, Hawke wasn't certain.

"Bethany could do worse," Hawke quipped. "I'm sure Isabela would agree. Get him to show you his infamous electricity trick."

"Brother!"

"Now," Hawke smirked at Bethany, satisfied that he had gotten his petty revenge, "What was so important that you saw fit to burst into my room without knocking?"

"Merrill and I have been discussing what happened. We believe the only way to recreate the spell combination is to have the help of a Fade creature."

"No," Hawke said immediately, "I've had enough of demons and abominations to last me two lifetimes. Don't even think about it, Bethany."

"But..."

"No!" Hawke said in a resolute tone of voice.

"Weren't you the one who was very keen on going home?"

"Not if it means consorting with a demon."

"So, we just stay? Let the others think we're dead?"

"Yes. They'll move on, if they haven't already. Why are _you_ suddenly so keen on going back? I thought you would've found some incentive to linger."

Bethany glowered at him. "Oh, like you have? A tumble in the sheets and he's got you wrapped around his little finger."

"Don't bring him into this." Hawke could feel his temper rising. "This has got nothing to do with him!"

"Please don't fight," Merrill pleaded but neither sibling heeded her.

"It has everything to do with him!" Bethany exclaimed just as irritated. "You're hopelessly blind when it comes to him! You want to stay because to want to save him, don't you?"

"Yes!" Hawke replied without hesitation. "And Mother, the Grand Cleric, the First Enchanter, Merrill's clan and every innocent soul who died needlessly in Kirkwall! Maker forbid, I even want to save Bartrand!"

Bethany and Merrill stared at him in a mixture of pity and surprise.

"It's not your fault," Merrill said quietly. "None of it is."

A small, bitter smile curled the corner of Hawke's lips. Evidently, Merrill was more astute than she seemed. He replied, "Maybe not, but I am still responsible. After all, I am the Champion of Kirkwall."

"Brother..." Bethany began but Hawke raised his hand and she fell silent, looking suitably guilty for her hasty words.

"Whatever you may think, nothing is worth making a deal with a demon."

"Hawke's right about that," Merrill agreed.

"Do either of you really not care about going back?"

Hawke smiled wryly, then said. "In about seven years' time, we will be back. Is it that important to you that we fling ourselves through the unknown Fade for something that will happen in due time?"

"We don't belong here. Right now, somewhere in Kirkwall, you and I are working off our debt to Athenril and Merrill is up on Sundermount. You don't find it strange that we're here too?"

"Stranger things have happened." Hawke shrugged. He hadn't spared much thought about it, to be honest; he has enough on his mind already. "If it means that much to you, then find another way, but _no demons._ "

Bethany agreed then rose to return to her room. Merrill stood to follow suit.

"Merrill, wait." Hawke stopped her. "Could I have a private word?"

* * *

  
**XIV.**   


"I may have a solution," Bethany immediately said when Hawke sought her out in her room.

"Bethany, have you even left the room in the last few days?" Hawke threw the windows open. "What is it about mages and their obsessive compulsive behaviour? Do they teach that in the Circle?"

Bethany ignored his taunt and continued, "You might not like it though."

However, Hawke did not get to hear what it was he wouldn't have liked. Merrill seemed a little grim when she came to find them. She led them to the Keep's throne room where a great number of people had gathered. Hawke noticed most of them were rather angry.

While he had been so wrapped up in his own problems, he had not realised how dire things were slowly becoming in Amaranthine.

"What did I miss?" Hawke whispered to Merrill.

"Darkspawn," Merrill replied grimly. "The nobles are petitioning for more soldiers. The outlying farms have been overwhelmed."

The doors banged open and a frantic servant burst in babbling about a darkspawn army within sights of Amaranthine.

"Amaranthine has been undermanned for weeks. She may not last long," Captain Garevel said.

"Our forces cannot move fast enough, but a small band may make it in time," Seneschal Varel added.

"But that's suicide," one of the nobles exclaimed.

The Captain insisted, "We must try."

"I'll go," the Commander said, "But who will defend the Vigil?"

"I will," Hawke stepped up. Evidently, he did have a hero complex. "I'm no Warden but I have fought a darkspawn or two."

"We will see to it that Vigil's Keep does not fall," Bethany added.

"Go, lethallin," Merrill reassured her kinsman. "We will defend your home. You can trust us."

The Commander regarded the trio for a moment before inclining his head gratefully. "Then it's decided. Oghren, Sigrun and Anders will come with me."

"And here I thought I'd retire to the country with a plump wife and several nubile mistresses," Anders quipped then sighed melodramatically. "I suppose it'll have to wait."

Hawke smiled in spite of the serious situation.

"The rest of us will stay here. Maker protect you and hold you close, Commander," Varel said then saluted.

Once the Commander had dispensed his commands, everyone dispersed to make ready. Anders quickly drew Hawke aside. He pressed several vials of potions into Hawke's hands.

"Restoration potions," Anders explained.

"No, you keep them. You might need it. Bethany can make me some."

Ander shook his head. "I have more than I can carry. Please, take them, it'll make me feel a bit better knowing you have them. Not that I have any doubts about your sister's healing prowess. She is quite proficient at it."

"She had an excellent teacher."

"Ah, well, the Circle is good for one thing, then."

Hawke smiled wanly, but said nothing.

Anders returned his smile and shifted somewhat nervously. "Listen, try not to get yourself killed or anything ok?"

Chuckling, Hawke asked, "Still looking to have your thirds and fourths?"

A smirk curled Anders' lips. He took a step to close the gap between them. Leaning forward, he whispered, "You can't fault a boy for wanting to enjoy such a scrumptious meal over and over again," then pecked Hawke on the lips with a kiss that was almost chaste.

"Maker watch over you," Anders said before he headed out.

Hawke watched him retreat, feeling rather worried. It was ridiculous; the man was a Grey Warden, don't they eat darkspawn for breakfast?

"He is rather charming, isn't he?" The Commander said, drawing Hawke out of his thoughts.

"Too charming for my health, I'd say," Hawke lamented.

The Commander chuckled, then sobered. "I want to thank you. This isn't your fight."

Hawke shook his head. "No, the darkspawn is everyone's fight. It's not like only kill Wardens. They'll slaughter us all if we let them."

"True enough. Hawke, I'll leave the Vigil in your capable hands."

Hawke acknowledged the Commander's request. It was flattering, given they scarcely knew each other. Hawke had no doubt it was Merrill's influence. He briefly wondered if he should thank or curse her for it.

As the Commander moved to leave Hawke called him. "Commander, I want to apologise for what happened to your clan. I will do all I can to make amends."

"I know," the Commander replied. "May the Dread Wolf never catch your scent."

* * *

  
**XV.**   


Vigil's Keep was in a state of organised chaos. Hawke and Varel were doing their best to ready the men and the Keep for battle. Several days after the Commander's departure, an army of darkspawn was spotted marching towards the Keep. Varel and Hawke hoped that they had enough time – when dusk fell, the darkspawn would be upon them.

The small contingent of darkspawn that attacked that night was swiftly dispatched by Nathaniel's archers and Varel's soldiers. However, it would be the first of many forays.

For days the darkspawn continued to harass them, slowly whittling down the troops' defences and morale.

Hawke trudged wearily back into the Keep proper. He had just led another successful counterattack against yet another foray. He would be the first to admit he did not understand this new breed of darkspawn. It was almost like they were waiting for something and these attacks were merely reminders for the inhabitants of the Keep that they were out there, bidding their time for something bigger.

He wondered just how long the Keep could endure this.

When Bethany and the other healers were not busy tending to the wounded, they would be working around the clock brewing all manner of restorative potions. She looked just as tired as Hawke felt. Merrill was seated at one the tables, her head pillowed upon her folded arms, looking worn and weary. The arches and the mages had been taking turns to man the battlements. Rest and sleep were few and far between. Still, all the defenders were showing great fortitude; the Commander would've been proud.

After four days of skirmishes, the true battle began.

In the waning light of the day, a dark host crested the horizon and Hawke could feel his hair stand on ends. The darkspawn approached in their superior number, ushering death and destruction before them.

Hawke exchanged grim looks with Nathaniel. He clapped the other man on the shoulder and the latter nodded resolutely. With that Hawke descended the ramparts to take his place in the bailey.

Justice was already there, standing tall at the vanguard. As Hawke moved to stand beside him, he turned to glance up at another vantage point. Bethany stood there, her hands wringing the borrowed staff in coiled anticipation. She spotted Hawke and gave him a tense smile, and then nudged Merrill. Merrill in turn gave him a small wave and Hawke inclined his head in acknowledgement to them both. On the other side of the barbican to where Nathaniel was, Vellana stood, her back ramrod straight and her poise confident.

Hawke steadied his shield arm. He could not help but wish his other companions were with him. Aveline and her indomitable aura standing shoulder to shoulder with him. Fenris and Isabela – their lethal blades flashing silver and red as they danced through the enemy ranks. Varric, and even Sebastian, raining chaos and death from afar. And of course their mages –Anders, Merrill and Bethany – bolstering the party and incinerating foes in equal measures.

Nevertheless, he knew that those who stood beside him that day would do all they could to protect their families and friends. After all, Vigil's Keep was their home.

They waited, and waited, unable to see beyond the walls. Hawke watched Nathaniel instead, whose eyes were locked upon the fields beyond. His fingers fiddled restlessly with the fletching of an arrow. Then he nocked his arrow and raised his bow, shouting a command to all the archers.

Deadly arrows soared into the sky and the cries of death ushered in the night.

It had begun.

The hoard of darkspawn came in waves and they crashed unerringly upon the formidable walls of the Keep. Even as many fell to Nathaniel's archers, many more rushed in to continue their assault upon the fortified gates of the Keep.

Finally with a deafening crack the gates were torn asunder and the darkspawn poured into the bailey. Hawke did not hesitate, he surged forward, shield at the ready and clashed into the darkspawn; two of them were sent flying. Hawke then brought his sword down in a wide arc to stagger those in front of him. Right on cue, Merrill hurled a lightning bolt in their direction, making them fall and twitch almost comically. Even without instruction, Hawke and his companions fought with nigh perfect synergy. Hawke allowed himself a small smirk before cutting down more darkspawn, doing his utmost to stem the tide of the creatures into the Keep.

* * *

  
**XVI.**   


The darkspawn were relentless. Wave after wave, they came and it was only time before the Keep's defenders were driven back. Notwithstanding, the defenders could take heart that only a handful of darkspawn remained to breach the inner walls.

Hawke, with Bethany and Merrill flanking him, watched the final onslaught of darkspawn run up the path towards them. They were exhausted, but they knew that they could not falter; precious few remained standing to thwart the last of the darkspawn

"Steady," he said. Rushing headlong towards the enemy was a sure way to die quickly. As they held firm, Nathaniel and Velanna continued their assault from the battlements. The darkspawn scattered under the barrage of magic and arrows, until one of them barked out commands. Quickly, they regrouped and advanced again.

"There," Hawke told the girls, gesturing to the darkspawn general. "Kill him quickly and the others will break."

"We've got your back, brother," Bethany replied.

Hawke could feel his entire body being suffused by her magic. Wasting no more time, he charged, virtually flying across the courtyard, drawing the attention of the darkspawn in the immediate vicinity. Hawke then slammed his sword into the ground, creating shockwaves and stunning the darkspawn. The air then began to crackle and columns of deadly lightning was summoned down from the sky, burning the darkspawn that had gathered around him, leaving him to concentrate on the general.

They crossed blades; this darkspawn proved to be hardier than the others. Nevertheless, it did not possess the prowess to defeat Hawke. Knowing that, it called in its last weapon.

The ground shuddered under the thunderous footsteps of an armoured ogre, seemingly twice as large as an ordinary one. It picked up a large boulder and hurled it at Hawke, who just managed to tuck and roll out of the way.

The general took the opportunity to launch one final attack. Hawke repelled it and retaliated, swiftly slaying it.

He turned in time to watch in horror as the ogre hurled an upturned cart at Bethany and Merrill. The wall of ice Bethany raised shattered under the immense impact and both she and Merrill crumpled in a bloody heap under the wreckage of the cart and the ice shards.

The ogre stretched out its monstrous hand towards Bethany and Hawke was once again hurtled back in time to the barren hillside of Lothering, where another ogre had reached out to his baby brother and snatched him away from them.

 _No!_ The wretched darkspawn will not take Bethany from him either.

Incandescent with rage, Hawke threw himself between the monster and Bethany. That primal anger had taken him beyond reasoning and the entire world had narrowed down to just him and the monster. Snarls and growls filled the air but he wasn't entirely sure if it came from him or the ogre. Hawke tore onto the ogre like a man possessed. Even as the ogre fought back, with claws tearing through plate and heavy fists landing blows, Hawke scarcely noticed. All he cared about was ridding the world of the blighted creature to protect Bethany and Merrill.

Drawing on the final reserves of his strength, Hawke leapt, and, with his blood-drenched blade aloft, came down heavily upon the ogre. The sword pierced through its skull. The creature howled in agony as it flailed in desperation. Unfortunately, when its hand found purchase upon Hawke's torso it immediately reacted. Hawke was thrown like a rag doll, slamming hard into the Keep's wall. He felt something break; in fact, he felt a lot of things break. He slid bonelessly down the wall, with spots in his eyes and blood in his mouth. There was a ringing in his ears as well - it could've been cause by his injuries, or it could've been the triumphant cheers from the Keep's defenders as the last of their enemy fell, he couldn't tell.

Then a shadow loomed over him. He could not make out who it was. Hawke opened his mouth to ask about Bethany and Merrill, as long as they were not hurt, it would be alright, but all he could managed was a bloodied cough.

A faint glow stood between him and the shadow before him and Hawke knew someone was healing him, even if he felt nothing – neither the warmth of healing magic nor the searing pain of his injuries. It had been a while since he truly felt nothing and it was welcoming. Hawke closed his eyes. He was ever so tired; maybe they should just let him sleep.

"No! Stay awake!" Someone shouted, slapping him. "I need help here!"

More shadows crowded around him; dark and oddly comforting. He lifted his hand and reached out blindly; someone took it and held it tight. As he dimly watched the shadows fuss around him, Hawke's thoughts were on his friends, the city of Kirkwall and all that had transpired since he and his family fled there.

While he believed his actions in Amaranthine were by no means drastic nor even noteworthy, he knew that what he had said and done would make some changes to the past that he remembered. Even the tiniest pebble can cause a far-reaching ripple in a lake. He only hoped that he had managed to change the fate of his friends and Kirkwall for the better. Whether this bode well for his own destiny or not, he was no longer concerned. Even if he could save one life, then this would not have been for nothing.

Hawke smiled to himself, and exhaled in satisfaction. Yes, indeed, he did have a hero complex; saving people was what he did, even if it sometimes meant sacrificing some.  


* * *

  
**XVII.**   


He whimpered in his sleep, gripped by a dream that seemed stark and real. The depths of emotions he felt watching the events of his dream unfold were greater than he had ever experienced.

Through this dream, he lived half a dozen years of another life. A life that could very well have been his own but for a single choice that was made differently. Faces and events, both familiar and foreign, flashed before his mind's eyes. As he bore witness to this all-too vivid dream, he reached the dizzying heights of euphoria and drowned in the crushing depth of despondency. But it was the final sequence of the dream, brought into sharp relief, that terrified him the most.

 _This is just a dream;_ he tried to convince himself, repeating it like a mantra.

When he could take no more of the heartache, it took every ounce of his strength to will himself to wake, and abruptly everything vanished into the darkness. He bolted awake in a tangle of sheets with his heart pounding in his ears and his hands shaking.

"You'd do anything for a bit of extra blanket, won't you?" his lover said sleepily, sitting up to embrace him.

He snorted, leaning into warm, comforting arms. "What can I say? I'm a blanket hog."

"As if I didn't already know." His lover pressed a kiss into the nape of his neck. "You want to talk about it?"

"It's just a nightmare." He shrugged, mentally shaking off the remnants of the dream.

"You can face down darkspawn and dragons without even batting an eyelid. Any dream that can make you a quivering mess isn't _just_ a nightmare," his lover said. "Tell me."

He frowned, little offended at being called a quivering mess, but acquiesced to share, "If you insist. I dreamt that you were possessed by a demon of vengeance and blew up a Chantry in the name if mage freedom."

The look on Anders' face was one of surprised amusement. He began with snickering and eventually dissolved into helpless laughter. "Andraste's heaving bosom! Can you imagine that? Me, an abomination wrecking the Chantry! Won't the Templars have a field day with that?"

Hawke smiled. Now that he was awake, the dream did seem like nothing more than a dream.

Anders continued, "When I was in Amaranthine, a friend once tried to convince me to, oh, what was it he said? Strike a blow against my oppressors. He said that now that I was free I should work to free others from oppression as well."

"You never fancied being the radical revolutionary?" Hawke teased.

"Maker, no!" Anders exclaimed. "I have enough to worry about with the darkspawn and demons as it is."

"Speaking of demons," Hawke said, suddenly remembering, "Merrill said there could be a tear in the Veil up on Sundermount. She asked for your help."

"I'll go up there first thing tomorrow."

"I'm seeing Bethany tomorrow," Hawke reminded Anders.

"Go ahead and spend the day with Bethany. You don't get to see her often. Besides, there's no need for you to be there on Sundermount, you'll probably just get underfoot."

"Always good to feel wanted," Hawke drawled sarcastically. "Funny I don't hear complains about me being underfoot when I'm blocking a revenant's attempt to cleave your skull in two."

"Yes, but I'm always ever so grateful," Anders purred seductively as he licked the shell of Hawke's ear. "In fact, I'll be happy to show you just how grateful I am."

"Slattern," Hawke chided with a predatory grin.

"You love it," Anders replied as he kissed Hawke hungrily, manoeuvring the latter back against the headboard, then moved to straddled him.

Hawke wrapped his arms around Anders and pulled him close, their lips finding each another again. Anders began to rock ever so gently; even so, it was enough to further harden their matching erections. Hawke growled and nipped on Anders bottom lip.

Anders hissed and pulled back, muttering, "Brute!" before closing his hand around Hawke's erection with a firm grip. Hawke groaned; his head lolled forward to rest on Anders' shoulder, his breath growing heavier.

"Mm, so hard already?" Anders murmured, giving Hawke's erection several long pulls. Hawke bucked, but with Anders straddling him, he found his movements quite restricted. He groaned in frustration, eliciting a chuckle from his teasing lover.

With his free hand Anders cupped Hawke chin and drew him in for another kiss. Anders shifted his weight and promptly lowered himself onto Hawke, inch by tantalising inch. Anders heaved a sigh of contentment when Hawke was completely sheathed in him.

They sat motionless for a moment, enjoying the giddy sensation of the initial entry. Then placing his hands on Hawke's shoulders, Anders began to pump and roll his hips. The pace was slow, even languid; both of them enjoying the gradual build up. Eventually, the rising heat had propelled them to quicken the pace, and soon Hawke began to thrust in a frantic rhythm. With each stroke, Anders would mutter an oath, both glorifying and cursing all the deities of every pantheon.

Hawke, drawing ever closer to precipice, closed his fist around Anders' neglected cock making the latter chant his name. With practiced ease, Hawke began to stroke in a synchronous tempo to their urgent thrusts. It did not take long for Anders to spill his seed, constricting deliciously around Hawke. With one more thrust, Hawke shuddered his release deep onto Anders.

~*~

Later, when Hawke had returned to a restful slumber, Anders held him close, finding comfort in his warmth and steady breathing. Back in the Circle, Anders didn't even bother contemplating any sort of long term relationships. He certainly never expected to fall in love, or to be loved.

From Anders' perspective, it would be seven years, almost to the day, when Hawke topple out of a Fade portal. Seven years since he first met, and promptly fell head over heels in love with Hawke.

He pressed a tender kiss on Hawke's temple and whispered, "Champion of Kirkwall, Defender of Vigil's Keep, I'll not lose you again."

* * *

  
**Epilogue**   


_Sundermount  
Dragon 9:31_

Merrill could not sleep. The whispers that beckoned her had grown louder since the night fell. Quietly, as to not to wake the Keeper, Merrill slipped out of the aravel.

Merrill knew, of course, the source of the whispering. Despite all the warnings from her Keeper, Merrill felt that she was in no immediate danger. She was well versed in all lore of demons and abominations, she would be vigilant.

Her trek up the mount seemed to take a shorter time than she remembered. The cavern was cold and dark. Yet she could see the strange idol clearly.

 _Come, child._ The murmurs were almost tangible. _You seek more knowledge._

"Yes, I do," Merrill whispered in response. "For the sake of my people."

_Then, come, I can give you what you need._

Merrill approached it cautiously. The dagger was already in her hand. She was only doing it for the good of her people, they would see, would understand when she succeeds. She lifted the blade to her forearm, the cold steel making her shudder.

"Don't do it," a voice, very much corporeal, said.

Merrill jumped and dropped the dagger. She spun around and reached for her staff instead, conjuring a glowing orb in the process. In the shadows of the entrance, a warrior stood. His armour told her he was shemlen.

Despite being in close proximity to Kirkwall, Merrill had not seen a shemlen. She looked at him warily, preparing to defend herself if necessary. While he carried a shield and sword upon his back, he did not seem threatening.

"It's not worth your soul to consort with demons," the warrior continued. "No matter what it said, it cannot help you. It's lying."

Merrill glared at the warrior angrily. Who was this strange shemlen to tell her what she should and should not do?

"There are other ways to repair the eluvian."

"What? How do you know about the eluvian?" Merrill demanded.

"From a friend," the warrior replied. "I can help, Merrill. Don't give yourself to the demon."

"How do you know my name?" Merrill was starting to feel little scared. The warrior had effectively trapped her in the chamber.

"Because I told him," another voice emerged from the darkness, but this voice Merrill recognised.

"Mahariel!" Merrill immediately flew into his arms.

He laughed as he embraced her. "It's good to see you too, lethallan."

"You survived the corruption! Have you returned to rejoin the clan?"

"No, I am a Grey Warden now. I only came back to stop you from making the biggest mistake of you life."

Merrill turned away from him. "I understand why you would shun the eluvian but I cannot give it up. We have so little left, I must do all I can to recover it."

"I'm not stopping you from restoring it, Merrill."

"You're not?" Merrill asked in surprise.

"No. What happened to Tamlen and I was the result of the darkspawn taint, not the eluvian itself."

"Then what?"

"I know I'm late too stop you from turning to blood magic. So I'm here to free you from the demon's hold."

"How --" Merrill began but a terrible roar echoed in the cavern, interrupting her. A miasma rose, and within the stirring mist shades materialised. Mahariel and the warrior immediately drew their weapons to defend themselves.

"The demon is trying to stop us," the warrior shouted above the din of battle.

"I know," Mahariel replied.

"The only way to kill it is to bind it to a mortal host," the warrior continued.

"I know!" Mahariel shouted back, as he sliced into a shade.

Then there was a rush of hot air and the remaining shades were set alight.

"Maker!" a third voice said. "For people wearing armour, you both can run fast!"

"We had no time to waste!" the warrior retorted.

"I can see that, starting the demon slaying without me," the newcomer quipped.

"What is going on?" Merrill asked.

"We haven't the time to explain everything," Mahariel replied. "Do you trust me, lethallan?"

"Of course."

"Then I hope you can forgive me later if you feel I have wronged you." Mahariel gave her a quick hug. "Do it, Anders."

Merrill was about to asked what this Anders was supposed to be doing when the world turned black.

~*~

Merrill walked the Beyond. She had been there many, many times, since her gift of magic manifested, but somehow, things felt different that time. There was a certain clarity that she had never felt before. The light was brighter, the air was fresher, and the ambient sounds crisper. She didn't understand why it was.

 _It's because you're not really in the Fade,_ a spirit said.

Merrill jumped for the second time that day.

_Please don't be alarmed. I mean you no harm._

"Who are you? What do you want?"

_I am the spirit of Justice, and I am here to help you._

"Help me how?"

_The demon that you have brokered a deal with will eventually claim your mortal body. And through you it will wreak havoc upon your world. Accept me, be my living host and the demon will not be able to possess you._

"What?" Merrill exclaimed. "How do I know you are any better? You could be a demon in disguise."

 _You were willing to risk possession by an unknown demon, why do you have reservations at bring possessed by an unknown spirit?_ Justice asked. _Right now, the Commander and Anders are standing over your unconscious body as they battle more Fade creatures summoned by the demon and the creatures will keep coming until you are all dead. I am sorry we could not give you the luxury of time to decide._

Merrill bit her lip nervously. A lifetime of dreams spent in the Beyond had taught Merrill how to ascertain the threats she may face in there. She was certain she felt no malevolence from Justice. Moreover, Mahariel had asked her to trust him.

"I accept," she eventually said. A spirit possession would be better than being an abomination.

Justice extended its hand to her and she took it.

Merrill awoke as abruptly as she had fallen asleep.

"Glad you could join us," the mage, Anders, said, even as he continued to hurl fire and ice across the cavern. "If it's not too much to ask, a helping hand would be very much appreciated."

Merrill nodded and reached for her staff then summoned columns of lightning down to strike their foes. Before long the shades were vanquished.

"Anders, quickly before more turn up!" Mahariel shouted; he was stood over the prone body of the warrior.

"Don't rush me, unless you want to turn all lumpy and ugly going grrrr, arrrrgh," Anders retorted. He furrowed his brows in concentration and muttered a particularly long incantation.

The idol shattered and Merrill could distinctly feel a malevolent energy poured out from it. She shuddered and took a step back instinctively. That was the demon that could've possessed her.

The sinister swirl was immediately drawn to the warrior's body, and Merrill shouted out a protest, already moving towards him. Surely Mahariel did not mean to sacrifice another for her sake?

Anders reached out to stop her. "No, it'll be okay," he said sounding rather breathless.

Merrill was about to protest further when Anders sagged, seemingly out of exhaustion. She moved to catch him before he fell.

Once the demon had been sealed in the body of the warrior, it stirred. Mahariel immediately plunged a wicked looking dagger into its heart. The demon shrieked then gurgled and finally stilled.

"Anders, burn the body," Mahariel said talking a step back. "We'll bring the ashes back to Kristoff's wife."

"Anders, do this, Anders, do that," the mage complained, even as he flicked a fiery orb at the body. "Andraste's wrinkled tits! Would you also like me do a spicy shimmy?"

Mahariel looked at him with exasperation. "No more than I want to see the King of Ferelden dancing the Remigold in a dress."

Anders laughed. "I'd pay to see that."

"I'm sure you would," Mahariel replied wryly.

"What is going on?" Merrill finally demanded, somewhat angrily. Given what had just happened, she was utterly shocked by levity the men were displaying,

"Sit down, lethallan. It's a long story," Mahariel said.

  
**~FIN~**   



End file.
